A viral moment on a noontime television show might seem like an odd starting point for a national reckoning on civic education, but here we are.
A contestant, a young woman of 20, stood under the bright studio lights and admitted, without hesitation, that she didn’t know what the Commission on Elections (Comelec) was. She wasn’t registered to vote. The show’s host, Vice Ganda, was visibly taken aback. “That’s bothersome,” he said, summing up what many viewers were likely thinking.
Bothersome, yes—but surprising? Not really.
Comelec’s response was swift. Instead of shaming her, they extended an invitation: a guided tour of their offices, a crash course in what elections mean and why they matter. Comelec Chairman George Erwin Garcia, to his credit, acknowledged the deeper issue.
“It is our failure we have to rectify,” he admitted. If one young woman on national television could openly say she didn’t know about the country’s electoral body, how many more were out there?
The knee-jerk reaction would be to blame the youth—to scoff at their supposed lack of awareness, to call them apathetic, too engrossed in social media to care about the real world. But let’s pause on that for a second.
The truth is, voter disengagement is not a personal failing. It’s a systemic one.
Political awareness doesn’t emerge in a vacuum. It is built—or neglected—through education, media, and governance itself. It is the result of years of messaging about whether individual votes truly matter, about whether politics is a force that works for people or simply against them.
When a 20-year-old says she doesn’t know what Comelec is, she’s not just admitting to a personal gap in knowledge. She’s revealing something about how effectively—or ineffectively—our institutions are teaching people about the most fundamental mechanism of democracy.
But here’s the thing: democracy is not self-sustaining. It requires participation. And participation requires belief—belief that voting matters, that institutions are accountable, that change is possible.
And if there’s one group that holds the most potential to shape the future of democracy, it’s the youth.
Young people are not just another demographic in elections—they are the driving force of social and political change. In the Philippines, nearly half of registered voters in the last election were aged 18 to 40.
Their numbers alone can sway the outcome of national and local races. But beyond the math, young voters bring something essential: new perspectives, fresh ideas, and a willingness to challenge the status quo.
Historically, movements led by young people have been at the forefront of political transformation. From the fight for democracy in the 1986 People Power Revolution to recent waves of activism on climate justice and human rights, youth-led movements have pushed the boundaries of what is politically possible.
Their voices matter—not just as voters, but as engaged citizens who demand accountability, transparency, and real solutions to the issues they face.
But participation doesn’t happen automatically. It must be cultivated.
For one, Comelec’s move to invite this young woman is a step in the right direction. Not because she deserves scrutiny, but because she represents a larger audience—an entire generation that needs to be engaged, not scolded.
If Comelec is serious about voter education, it must meet young people where they are: on digital platforms, in pop culture, in the spaces they actually occupy.
Second, the media plays a crucial role. It’s not enough to report on elections as a two-week spectacle every few years. Political journalism must connect governance to everyday lives—showing, not just telling, how policies shape the price of food, the availability of jobs, the freedom to express oneself.
Finally, schools must rethink how civics is taught. If political education is reduced to memorizing dates and names, it will never feel urgent. The next generation needs to see politics as a living, breathing force, something that shapes their lives and futures.
I learned this firsthand when I turned 18 and cast my first vote. As a political science student, I thought I knew everything about governance—but there is something transformative about physically going to a polling station, marking a ballot, and realizing that your voice, however small, is part of something much larger. That experience solidified my understanding that elections are not just a process—they are power. And if we don’t wield it, someone else will do it for us.
Because the real issue is not that one young woman didn’t know what Comelec was. It’s that she could say so on national television, and instead of being shocked at her, we should be asking: How many others feel the same way?
And what are we going to do about it?
Plato warned us long ago: “The price good men pay for indifference to public affairs is to be ruled by evil men.”
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